


It Costs A Kiss

by MachineQueen



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, F/F, Pre-Volume 3 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineQueen/pseuds/MachineQueen
Summary: Cinder is looking for something to entertain her and runs into Neo fighting one of Vale's shady dust dealers.With high grade military dust up for grabs and a cute mute accomplice, what's a girl got to lose?





	It Costs A Kiss

Downtown Vale. After dark. The air is chill with autumn but Cinder doesn’t shiver. She doesn’t feel the cold...hasn’t felt it since she looked into Amber’s eyes and stole the power of the Fall Maiden. She’s seen other people wearing jackets so she knows she should be cold in nothing but her figure hugging dress but she’s glad she can’t feel it. Let the cold be for other people. 

There's really no point walking around aimlessly like this but she can't settle. Walking at least gives her something to do… something other than burn. And listening to Emerald and Mercury swipe at each other is getting old already. 

Cinder isn’t entirely sure what she’s looking for. She just knows that she needs a distraction. Something, anything to take the edge off the restless boredom that plagues her. 

The sounds of weapons clashing draws her attention. Getting lost in a pointless fight has some appeal. Though she’s supposed to be laying low, it can’t hurt to let herself go. Just this once. 

Following the sound takes her to an alleyway behind a sordid string of betting shops and strip clubs. A man and a girl, fighting. The man is heavy set. The girl is tiny and hitting him with what looks like...a parasol? He has a knife, she can see it glint orange in the street lights. 

“C’mere, bitch,” says the man. His words are slurred, so he’s either very drunk or very stoned. 

The girl gives as good as she gets. She’s a fighter, that much is clear and an intriguing one at that. Cinder likes watching her; she’s sure and quick. But the guy has backed her into a corner and she doesn’t dodge in time. He grabs a fist full of her hair. Her kicks and punches do nothing and she is forced to drop her parasol. Cinder suddenly feels sick to her stomach. She doesn’t want to watch what happens next. Her conscience might pick odd times to show itself, but it's still tucked away somewhere. Maybe it's making its presence felt because the girl reminds her of who she used to be.

Mind made up, she strides forward. The clink of her heels announces her presence. The man turns to look at her, his hand loosely around the throat of the parasol girl.

“You look like you’ve wandered into the wrong part of town, sweetheart. I'd turn around now if I were you.”

Cinder smiles, too sweetly. “How silly of me. Such a gentleman of you to warn me.”

The man is nothing much to look at. He should be wearing a hat that says Thug ™, it’s like he's come off a factory line. He's boring, boring, boring and not worth a single solitary second of Cinder’s time. 

Neither of them move for a second. It becomes a power play. Cinder lives for power plays and continues forwards, going straight at him. This surprises him. He'd been waiting for her to turn her back, she's sure of it. 

“Hey!” he says, making a grab for her. “Did you hear what I said?” 

Cinder looks down at his free hand, which is now clenched firmly round her left wrist. His other hand is still round the girl’s throat. She wriggles but it doesn’t trouble him. His focus is now firmly on Cinder. 

“Let go of me. ” She delivers the command coldly. No begging, no pleas, no fear. 

“You really are asking for it, huh?”

His face is meaty, small eyes buried in a swollen skull. Up close, he's older than Cinder expected - there are tell tale lines around his eyes. She can also smell that he’s been smoking something stronger than tobacco. 

“If you don't let go, you'll regret it.”

At that, he laughs. God, he's stoned. “Don't think I'll be the one with regrets.”

His grip on Cinder tightens to bruising and her patience runs out. The burning sensation inside her intensifies, she exhales and then the burning is outside, in the air. Flesh singes and the smell of barbecue fills the alley. Distantly, Cinder knows she should stop. But it’s such a relief to let the burning out. 

The girl drops down, free from the thug’s chokehold. She watches his burning corpse with fascination rather than horror and Cinder is further intrigued by her. The flames burn far brighter than she’s accustomed to. Something pops and crackles and both of them back away on instinct. 

The man tries to run but at this point it's too late. Cinder would feel bad about the noises he was making if she hadn't already heard worse. He stumbles, a walking column of flame. When he reaches the end of the alleyway, something combusts and lights the dark with a cacophony of colour. Dust explodes in red, green, purple, orange... It’s beautiful enough that Cinder’s breath catches. And then he collapses into a pile of ashes; sooty, disgraced, dead. The flames continue, beautiful and grotesque. He must have been carrying a good quantity of dust to go up like a firework and Cinder begins to wonder who it is she’s murdered. 

Cinder retrieves the girl’s parasol from behind her and holds it out to her companion. Up close, the girl is pretty. Her eyes are different colours and they switch as she gives Cinder a winsome look. This girl isn’t afraid of her. She accepts the parasol back with a flourish. It looks too pretty and fragile to have been used as a battering ram, but Cinder knew better than most that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s your name?”

The girl does not reply. She mouths a few words, like she’s trying to talk and then shakes her head. An annoyed eye roll. Some emphatic gestures towards the dead man. Seems she’s annoyed and Cinder can’t blame her if she was just minding her own business before she got grabbed. She signs something - at least Cinder thinks she does - but Cinder can’t understand sign language. So she can't talk, then?

Cinder wonders if the girl was born that way or if she’d used her voice to pay for something. According to old stories, one could buy the heart of a prince among other things. 

“O-K, then. Well, you’re welcome and try and be more careful in the future.”

Cinder turns to go but the girl darts out in front of her. She barely comes up to Cinder’s shoulder. Cinder feels a stab of irritation but since she’s just killed a man she’s feeling a bit more mellow than usual. 

The girl holds out something to Cinder. In her outstretched palm is a vial of dust. The way it glows catches Cinder’s attention. She picks it up and gives it a cursory examination.

“This is hard light dust,” she says. “Highly concentrated. Military grade. Where did you get this?”

The girl gestures towards the dead thug. The flames are smouldering out now there's nothing left to feed them.

“He was a dust dealer?”

Cinder frowns and realises she’s being warned. She’d heard about Vale’s dust black market but had intended to steer clear. It was rife with gang rivalry, random acts of violence and obscene amounts of money. It was the kind of messy and unpredictable that Cinder had done her best to avoid. If she’d known the man to be a dealer, she would have thought twice about killing him. 

(But probably would have killed him all the same)

The girl nods, confirming her assessment. Then she holds out her scroll. She wants Cinder’s number. Cinder had been intending to change the last digit when she punched it in, but when it comes down to it, she doesn’t. And a good job, because she instantly receives a message.

 _My name is Neo._

And then Neo bows, parasol in hand, smile on face.

They search the body together. Neo is nonchalant and Cinder guesses she's done this before. If this man is carrying powerful dust, Cinder wants it for her collection. He's already dead and it would be a waste to leave anything that didn't dramatically blow up.

She isn't sure what Neo wants until the girl draws out his charred wallet and empties it of both lien and credit cards. 

“A thief who deals in dust, hmm?” 

Neo merely shrugs and pockets the money without offering Cinder a cut. She's got some nerve. Cinder wonders if she should protest but then she finds another untouched vial of hard light dust. The dust interests her more than the money. Neo eyes up the vial but lets her keep it.

The dealer's scroll begins to ring. The two of them share a conspiratorial look. Neo slides out the scroll and checks the name. Cinder deduces from the face she pulls that whatever she sees isn't good. Cinder leans over so she can look. 

_Kumo Kuro_

When Mercury is surprised or impressed, he sometimes lets out a low whistling sound. It annoys her, immensely. But if she were to pick up the habit, it would be a noise she made now. Kumo Kuro is a name she's heard before, whispered in dark corners of shady bars. If you want dust, you talk to Kumo Kuro. He can get you whatever you want - for a price. And anyone who gets can't pay their debt gets murdered in new and innovative ways that make even Cinder shudder. Sure, there's probably a great deal of exaggeration but it's difficult to forget stories about people literally turned inside out. 

Kumo Kuro was not relevant to her current mission. And yet. The thought of all that dust, all that money, all that power that could be hers if she were to make a play and come out on top...

"Neo," says Cinder in her most seductive tone. "What we have here is a window of opportunity. You in?"

**Author's Note:**

> I liked the idea of Cinder and Neo joining forces to take down gangsters in Vale a bit too much.


End file.
